Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Gabe

P acing back and forth in my home office, I rub at my neck, which has tightened into knots. "Clara… I do not have time to rehash all of this with you. My father is no longer chairman. The vote was properly called for and executed. You need to deal with it or you can resign your position. Which is it going to be?"

"I am going to hold you accountable," she snaps with the iron bite of a woman who's been helping to helm the empire for decades. "You may think you know what you're doing, but you're just a young pup and you are out of your league."

Someone with a lesser ego might be intimidated by her rebuke, but I recognize what this is. Clara is fearful she'll be ousted right alongside my father. She represents part of the old guard. She sees that I want to bring new and young blood onto the board because I have a greater vision than my father did.

Simply put, she's concerned for her livelihood.

"Clara, you are a vital and integral part of this organization. I need people like you and Uncle Terrance on the board who can help advise me and who are willing to let me guide this ship under such advice. But I can't battle you and do my job at the same time. You need to decide which way it's going to be."

I listen to her ramble for another five minutes, but I note that she's no longer playing the blame game for what I did to my father. Deep down she knows we cannot have an accused attempted murderer on our board. It would kill our reputation and our product.

Ultimately, we end the call with the promise to meet tomorrow for lunch so we can discuss her concerns. I'm confident I can get her reined in but to be on the safe side, I shoot a quick text to Uncle Terrance and invite him to join us. He's an ally no one expected me to have since he's incredibly close to my father and has essentially been his right-hand man. I know it was a dagger to Lionel's heart when Uncle Terrance voted against him, but my uncle saw the writing on the wall and he knew it was time to jump ship.

After pocketing my phone, I move to my desk and stuff several folders in my briefcase. I glance around my new home office, loving the casual comfort. I love even more not having to wear a suit when I choose to work from here rather than the office and while my jeans and shirt are designer, they're still representative of some of the changes happening with me.

As awesome as it was to kick my dad off the board of directors, the real victory was in getting Ethan's agreement to let me see Sylvie. I dropped the revised trust agreement off yesterday with Kat and before I went to bed last night, she told me via text that Ethan agreed. He wasn't about to let me get my hands on her alone and I understand that. It appears that Kat is to be our chaperone, so I'm headed to Blackburn Farms now to spend the afternoon with my niece.

I sling the briefcase over my shoulder and move to the couch to grab the two shopping bags filled with presents for Sylvie. I feel no need to buy her affection as I'm confident in the bond I've developed with her since the day she was born, but it makes me feel good to give her something to bring a smile to her face. God knows she needs it.

Sylvie and I have always been tight. I went to France a handful of times each year to visit and we stayed in frequent contact by phone or FaceTime. That was a reflection of the rock-solid bond I had with my sister Alaine, born of being raised in the same cold sterile home environment. We really only had each other.

When Alaine got sick with brain cancer and we realized she was dying, my bond with Sylvie strengthened even more. Alaine and Sylvie came to live with us in Kentucky and when Sylvie wasn't spending time with her mother, she was at my side.

I had even fancied in my mind that I would be the one to raise Sylvie after my sister died. It made the most sense and I even started making plans to get out from under my parents' roof and buy a home Sylvie and I could live in.

That all went to hell after the truth came out that Ethan Blackburn was Sylvie's father. The cruel twist of betrayal from my sister was that she wanted Sylvie to live with him and not me.

Naturally, I banded with my parents to make sure that didn't happen. Sylvie is a Mardraggon, not a Blackburn. I aligned with my parents' efforts to do everything we could to turn Sylvie against Ethan. For me, it wasn't about the winery. I didn't care at all what happened to it because I was more focused on our bourbon empire, which is the real moneymaker.

But as a Mardraggon, I hated the Blackburns. The long-standing divide would never be bridged and I would keep Sylvie on our side.

While my father was apparently plotting the murder of his granddaughter, I just wanted to keep her bonded to me. I could not stomach the thought of Sylvie becoming a Blackburn nor could I envision her spending any time with them. If she developed ties to that family that meant I would have to deal with them, and I didn't want them in my life.

Most of all, I did not want Kat there. In truth, that was a huge driving factor in my zeal to keep Sylvie separated from the Blackburns. I could not foresee a life where our families barbecued together because one precocious child closed the gap. That was a dream I once had a long time ago, but it died. It was mostly my fault when it crashed and burned, and I never planned to put myself into that position again.

But I'm in the thick of it now.

Sylvie is a Blackburn, and she has nothing of the Mardraggons in her other than her mother's DNA. She is nothing like her grandparents and I see very little of me within her because I can be ruthless in pursuit of what I want. But now I have to play nice because I hold no leverage with Ethan Blackburn and if I want Sylvie in my life, that means I have to accept the Blackburns to some extent. Frustrating beyond measure, that means Kat is back in my life now too.

She is the biggest complicating factor I face. She is what's causing me the most stress right now because no matter how snide our exchanges are or how deep our bitter feelings run, I am still drawn to the woman.

I still want her.

And apparently, I still care for her because when she fell off that horse yesterday, my heart stopped cold in my chest. The fall was brutal and I was afraid she was dead. I took off running across the barn without thought as to how it might look. Luckily, Kat was knocked too silly to understand the meaning behind my actions and Trey was too conceited in the hatred between us all that he didn't even pay attention.

It was a potent reminder that Kat Blackburn still has power over me and if I allow myself to succumb to it, I'll slide down an incredibly slippery slope. I know this because it happened once before. We were young, dumb and foolish, but we were crazy about each other.

I rapped my knuckles softly on the door to Kat's dorm room, looking left and right to make sure nobody saw me. It was close to midnight and her roommate was staying over at her boyfriend's house. While this was a coed dorm, I could've gotten in serious trouble for being on the female floor at this time of night. But this wasn't the first time I'd been here nor would it be my last. Nothing would keep me away from Kat.

She swung open the door and before I could even level a smile her way, her hands gripped my T-shirt and she dragged me inside. I'm not sure who closed the door, but all that mattered was that her mouth was on mine and my hands were on her. We fumbled our way through hot kisses and tearing off each other's clothes. We fell onto her bed and I whispered dirty things in her ear.

Our tutoring relationship didn't last long. An impromptu casual dinner turned into a few beers turned into a few kisses and that turned into a firestorm between us. Kat and I always burned hot together, a relationship born from hate but then evolved through secrecy. It was complicated and exciting and I always felt like I was drowning in her presence. I sunk into her body that night, feeling more at home than I ever had anywhere in my life. And after we both found the height of pleasure in her narrow bed, we lay naked in each other's arms, talking about the future.

Christmas was coming up and both of us were going home for nearly three weeks. We had no clue what that would look like because no one knew we were seeing each other. Sequestered away at the University of Kentucky and being careful not to be seen in public, since I had other family members and friends enrolled, we kept the truth hidden.

"We can meet up in the empty apartment above the tack room," Kat suggested as her fingers trailed over my chest.

"I can always get a hotel room. We could go spend a weekend in Louisville."

Kat sighed contentedly. "That sounds nice. But I wish we didn't have to sneak around."

"I wish that too, but it's not an option to tell our families right now. We're going to have to figure a way to ease into it."

"I know," she said dejectedly. "It's just so stupid that something that happened eons ago should affect us. The original feud has nothing to do with you and me."

She wasn't wrong about that. It all began in the mid-1850s, a tale of tragic love and betrayal. Elizabeth Blackburn and Henry Mardraggon, our ancestors, were set to unite our families through marriage. But fate, laced with malice, intervened. Vicious rumors about Elizabeth emerged, as poisonous as nightshade, and the patriarchs of both families—driven by pride more than reason—drew their pistols in a heated argument. A shot fired, a life lost. Henry Mardraggon lay dead, and with him, the hope of unity.

The grief was too much for Elizabeth Blackburn. She took her own life weeks later, leaving behind a legacy of heartache and anger. The Blackburns blamed the Mardraggons, the Mardraggons blamed the Blackburns, and just like that, a feud was born, growing stronger with each subsequent generation.

And we're still paying for all that heartache.

"It's not just the original feud," I pointed out. "It's our families continually hurting one another. Hell, my father beat your dad on a land purchase not but eight years ago."

I hold my breath waiting to see if the reminder of that unpleasant incident will enrage Kat because my dad was unscrupulous in using government favors to practically steal the land from Tommy Blackburn. The Mardraggons didn't need it but we didn't want the Blackburns to have it. We've never really talked about all the terrible things our families have done to each other, but this one deepened the hatred in these modern times.

I'm so relieved when she says, "I still say that has nothing to do with us."

But I'm also a realist and I had to point out, "Doesn't it? I'm going to be head of Mardraggon Enterprises one day and we'll always have that land that your family needed to expand the farm."

Kat lifted her head and grinned down at me. "You could give it back."

I lifted my own head and kissed her before saying, "You could buy it from me."

I meant it in jest since she's the one who started the teasing, but her face crumbled. "This is why we can't work."

I took her jaw in my hand. "Don't say that. We'll find a way."

And I kissed her again and rolled her back under me and we forgot all about the things that can tear us apart and concentrated on what we had together.

The chimes of my doorbell brings me back to the present and I set my briefcase down next to the shopping bags. I check my watch as I head to the front door, wondering who it might be. Very few people know I live here now, and I haven't ordered anything to be delivered.

I open the door and find two men standing on the porch, their hands clasped in front of them. They're wearing expensive suits but they look decidedly un-businesslike. Both tall and beefy, one has blond hair slicked back and the other has dark hair in a short crew cut. The blond smiles at me genially, the dark-haired one scowls, and I spy a line of tattoos creeping up past the collar of his dress shirt.

"Can I help you?" I ask, my gaze cutting back and forth between them.

"My name's Kravitz," the blond says, reaching out to hand me a business card. He then throws a thumb toward his tattooed partner. "That's Bellamy."

"Just Kravitz? Just Bellamy? Is that sort of like Madonna or P!nk?" I glance down at the card and see the name Clinton Rafferty. There's an address and phone number, but I lift my gaze back up to the man who handed it to me.

Kravitz is amused by my questions but Bellamy scowls. "We work for Mr. Rafferty and we would like a minute of your time."

I have no fucking clue what this is about but I was on my way out the door for what promises to be a pleasant afternoon. "I'm sorry, but I've got an appointment to get to. If you would like to tell me what this is about, we could set another time to meet."

Kravitz inclines his head. "This won't take long, Mr. Mardraggon. We're here about a matter involving your father."

"Then I suggest you go see my father," I say, warning tingles running up my spine, his tone clearly threatening.

"Your father can't help us. We understand he's been ousted from Mardraggon Enterprises and that you're in charge now."

I don't respond but merely stare at the man.

"Your father owes Mr. Rafferty a case of the Mardraggon 1921 Shadow Reserve Barrel. We're here to collect it."

My eyes widen in shock and I can't help but laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Your father bet that case in a high-stakes poker game with Mr. Rafferty. Your father lost and has yet to pay the debt. Mr. Rafferty believes you are the best person to deliver. You have one week to hand it over."

"You're fucking crazy," I growl at the men, my eyes cutting between the two. "My father isn't a gambler. He doesn't believe in wasting hard-earned money."

I'm stunned when Bellamy says, "Your father had a severe addiction to horse gambling and later found a love of poker, although he was quite bad at it. We have a marker for the case of bourbon."

"That's a shame then because my father doesn't own the bourbon you're talking about therefore he couldn't have given you a marker. It belongs to the company."

Kravitz nods as if he understands but his smile is chilling. "It's a good thing you're the new chairman of the board then. Like I said, you're the best person to ensure it gets delivered in satisfaction of the debt."

"I'm sorry you came all this way, gentlemen. I have no intention of turning the case over to you." The Mardraggon 1921 Shadow Reserve Barrel was a single case of high-quality, rare bourbon that our distillery produced in 1921. Bourbon doesn't age or change once it's bottled, unlike wine, so its shelf life when unopened can be quite long. The key factors for maintaining its quality over years or even decades are proper storage conditions, away from direct sunlight and at a stable, moderate temperature. Therefore, an unopened bottle of bourbon, especially if it's a rare or vintage variety, can remain good to drink for many years.

Only twelve bottles were made and expertly stored. The case itself is valued at over two million dollars. It's not something that would ever be sold nor would it be gambled away in a poker game as it is a physical representation of our family's legacy. "I would like you both to leave my property and not come back again."

Neither man seems offended and Kravitz is blasé when he says, "You have one week. We'll be back."

They turn to walk toward a dark Suburban with tinted windows parked on the other side of the circular driveway and I feel compelled to make myself clear. "You can come back, but there won't be any bourbon here for you."

Bellamy turns, his eyes sparkling with the promise of violence. "If the bourbon isn't here, there's going to be pain. We'll start with your father."

They could beat the shit out of my father for all I care. I don't say that though. I don't say anything because it's clear these two men don't have any authority to negotiate or stop whatever train my dad has set into motion by his poor choices. I most certainly have no authority to produce the case of bourbon they claim is held by a marker, nor would I want to if I had the ability. Mr. Rafferty is shit out of luck, but my dad has enough money I'm sure he can cover the cost of the marker, regardless of how bad his gambling debts are.

I don't respond and patiently wait for the men to leave, the Suburban disappearing down the long driveway. I walk back into the house to gather my briefcase and Sylvie's presents. The excitement of seeing my niece has me forgetting all about the unpleasantness of that visit.

I don't even try to analyze that a part of me is excited to see Kat as well.